Four Relentless Days. Elle James
the Publisher
First night back at the All Things Wild Safari and Resort in Kenya, Africa, and Harmon “Harm” Payne had trouble sleeping. Their commander had granted the team a bonus week of vacation. After a particularly difficult mission in South Sudan, cleaning up the damage done by a ruthless warlord bent on wreaking havoc with the locals and stealing their children for his army, the SEAL team deserved this time to unwind.
Though his week of rest and relaxation had begun, he couldn’t rest or relax and paced the sleek wooden floors of his cabin, hoping to get sleepy, but so far, nothing was working.
As a US Navy SEAL, he was used to snatching some shut-eye whenever he had fifteen minutes to spare. Why couldn’t he do it now?
He stood by the window, staring out into the darkness of night, studying the myriad of stars twinkling in the heavens. The setting was perfect, the mission had been a success, but he couldn’t calm his racing pulse. Harm felt on edge, as if he teetered on the precipice of something.
He lay on the bed, forced his eyes to close and counted bullets, hoping the monotony of the numbers would lull him to sleep. Around fifty, he must have slipped into a troubled sleep. The numbers became the beat of a drum; the sleek bullets became gyrating bodies, shiny with sweat and paint, dancing in the flames of a bonfire. The rhythm grew stronger, the dancing more erratic, and a voice called out words in a language he could not understand. A flowing red scarf drifted through the dancers and into the fire, becoming part of the dancing flames.
What did it mean? Why was he there?
A movement in the shadows surrounding the fire caught his attention. The face of a coyote, wolf or jackal appeared, its golden eyes reflecting the glow of the burning embers.
For a moment, Harm’s attention remained riveted on the jackal, his heart beating fast and furious, slamming against his ribs, as if eager to escape the jackal and the confines of his ribs.
Harm swayed with the drumbeat, his body drawn like a moth to the flames, his gaze captivated by the jackal’s eyes, mesmerized in the effect of the dancing flames. His feet moved as if of their own volition, taking him to within reach of the blaze. He would have fallen in had an owl not swooped low, screeching loudly at just that moment.
The sound jerked him back from the fire. The jackal disappeared and Harm sat up in the bed, his heart racing at the close call in the dream. He rubbed his eyes, swung his feet over the side and stood, letting the night air cool his sweating body.
Obviously, sleep wasn’t coming any time soon. At least, not the restful kind he sorely needed.
Closing his eyes now would only bring on a recurrence of the freaky nightmare. Harm pulled on a T-shirt, jeans and boots and left his cabin for the main house, hoping to find a sandwich or a beer. Maybe that would help settle his nerves and let him sleep...dream-free.
In the distance, he heard the scream of something that sounded like a big cat. The night sounds of the savanna were enough to make anyone a little nervous. He was glad he wasn’t sleeping in a tent, exposed to whatever wild animal sniffed him out as a potential meal.
His buddy Buck had been on a recon mission with his doctor lady for a couple days, sleeping in the open, exposed to the elements and wild creatures of South Sudan. They’d managed to survive, with the worst threat being from the warlord they were determined to find and nail.
Surely Harm would be okay walking by himself between the cabin and the main lodge without being stalked by a hungry beast.
Talia had mentioned walking in pairs to discourage the wildlife from singling them out, but he didn’t want to wake any of his teammates. They didn’t have problems with insomnia, apparently.
Harm followed the starlit path to the lodge and climbed the stairs to the front door. As he reached for the door handle, a high-pitched scream pierced the night air, followed by a long wailing cry.
His hand jerked backward and he spun toward the sound.
“It’s just a jackal,” a feminine voice said from the shadows on the wide veranda. “They like to yodel at night.”
Harm turned toward the sound.
Talia Ryan, the resort owner, rose from a porch swing and leaned against the railing, the starlight glinting off her blue-black hair. Beside her lay the resort mascot, Mr. Wiggins, the long, sleek leopard they’d met on their previous visit.
The animal lay stretched out across the decking, completely relaxed and asleep.
“You get used to the sound of the jackals after a while,” Talia said.
“Apparently Mr. Wiggins is unconcerned.”
Talia laughed. “He feels safe here.”
The jackals screamed again, making Harm start.
Talia looked out into the night. “And if it’s not the jackals, it’s the lions chuffing or the elephants trumpeting. There really isn’t such a thing as a quiet night on the savanna.” She turned toward him. “Are the natives keeping you awake?”
He chuckled, though the sound was strained, even to his own ears. Her comment hit far too close to home for comfort. He shrugged it off. “I wish I could blame it on the animal noises, but I just couldn’t sleep. What’s your excuse?”
She shrugged, the slight movement unaffected yet graceful. “Some nights I don’t sleep well. There just happen to be more of them lately.”
Harm admired the curvy silhouette of the beautiful woman, glad for something besides flames, dancing bodies and jackals swirling through his mind. “What would keep a pretty lady like you up at night?”
She stiffened, her gaze turned toward the night and the savanna where the jackal sang. “Nothing my guests need to worry about.”
Harm should have left the conversation there and entered the main lodge in search of that snack, but something kept him on the veranda with Talia.
He liked the woman who owned and managed the resort single-handedly in a country where native women were often treated worse than cattle. “I imagine you have a lot of responsibilities, running a resort by yourself. Is this something you’ve always wanted to do?”
She laughed. “It wasn’t my dream.”
“No? Then whose dream was it?”
She hesitated for a long moment before finally answering, “It was my husband’s.”
“Husband?” Harm hadn’t heard anything about a husband in connection with Talia during the several days they’d spent at the resort a couple weeks before.
“Michael was a freelance photographer. We spent so much of our time here in Africa, we decided to buy the resort and make it permanent.”
“Where is he now?” Harm asked.
“He was killed by a rhinoceros over a year ago.” Her voice was soft, quiet, almost a whisper. But the tone said it all.
The catch in her voice tugged at Harm’s heart. “You miss him still?”
She nodded. “For the first few months, I could barely breathe. I knew life on the savanna could be dangerous, but I never thought I’d lose Michael to the animals he fought so hard to save. He always seemed so good with them. And they were tolerant and accepting of him.”
“They don’t call them wild for nothing,” Harm pointed out.
She nodded. “Still, it was so sudden. One day he was here, the next he was gone. We’d been together since we were teenagers. I really had no idea how to go on without him.”
“You seem to be doing fine now.”
She shook her head. “I didn’t take reservations for over six months,